Float Away
by eiahmon
Summary: Bob Gray hates Derry. There is just something wrong with the place. But the circus can't go on without Pennywise the Dancing Clown, so every year Bob swallows his fear and focuses on putting on a good show. But this year, things will be different. This year, the feeling of wrongness is stronger. This year, It is awake. And It has set It's eyes on Pennywise.
1. Beginning

**A/N: Well, ummm, this is unexpected. Apologies to my When I'm Gone readers, but ever since I saw It Chapter Two last month, my imagination has been yammering away about writing some Pennywise fics. Pennywise has been a favorite villain of mine for about 20 years now, ever since I read IT for the first time, so I suppose it's no surprise that here I am writing about him - sorta. So don't worry, dear Kingdom Hearts readers, When I'm Gone isn't abandoned, but if I didn't get this out, I wasn't going to get _any_ writing done. Needless to say the Pennywise here is Bill Skarsgard****'s version.  
**

**Enjoy!**

**OOOOOO**

_**The Beginning  
**__**May 31, 1879**_

The train roared through the countryside as the Shrine Circus train left the town of Derry, Maine far behind it. One day to set up, seven days of shows, and then it was on to the next destination. It was hard work with a grueling schedule, but clown William "Willie" Gray wouldn't have traded it for anything. The smiles and laughter when Pongo the Clown did his act made it all worth it for him.

The cheers of the crowd played in his mind as he opened the door into the boxcar that housed his wagon. He'd forgotten to pocket his smokes when the circus had packed up, and none of the miserly bastards back in the dining car would spare him one. He stepped into the car, pulled the door shut behind him, and the sudden wailing of a baby slapped into him like a wall of frigid water. He stood still just inside the door for several seconds as his mind tried to grasp the logic behind the sound – why would a baby be in his wagon, of all places – before the wails increased in volume. The change broke his daze, and he nearly ran the short distance to where his wagon was sitting, chained by its axles to the car's floor. He hopped up onto the small platform that served as something of a porch and fumbled for his keys in the dark as the wailing turned to the shrieks of a baby in serious distress. He finally grasped the right key, unlocked the wagon's side door, and wrenched it open. He struck one of his matches to see by as he stepped inside. The small flame barely lit up the small space, but it was enough. He brushed by his clown costume, hanging on one wall, past the props that he used in his act, and went to the far end, where his bed and dressing table were at.

There, lying on the narrow bunk that he slept in when the circus was stopped in town, was a wiggling bundle, and the shrieking was emanating from it. The bundle was tied shut with a granny knot, and Willie was vaguely aware that his hand was shaking as he reached out to it. The tie cam undone easily with a single tug, and the blanket fell away.

Willie felt himself freeze up all over again as the baby became visible, and he absently took in the enlarged head, the bright red hair that only covered the back half of the head with a single vertical tuft in the center, the stump of an umbilical cord, and the blue eye that looked off to the side while the other looked up at him. The crying quieted, as if the infant was as surprised to him as he was to see it, and then the eyes squeezed shut as the wailing started back up.

The match burned his fingers and sputtered out, shaking Willie out of his daze. He cursed, shook his hand and reached down to grab another match. He struck it and used it to light the candle that sat on his dressing table. The candle's brighter glow filled the inside of the wagon, allowing him to finally turn his attention to the little trespasser. He scooped it up into his arms, and the infants left eye peeped open to look up at him.

" 'ey there, little guy. What are ya fussin' about?" He tapped the prominent nose with a finger, and the baby titled its head back and puckered its lips. "Hungry, are ya? What are you doin' here?" He ran his hand over the red tuft and smiled when it promptly sprung back up. "Well, I guess that's not important right now. I'd better introduce ya to everyone else and see what we got to feed ya."

Willie tucked the blanket around little hands and feet, and then he walked out of his wagon, and out of the car in which it was stored, heading forward towards the dining car.

**OOOOOO**

The packed dining car went silent when Willie walked in, with a bawling babe in his arms. He couldn't help but grin at the site. Cigarette smoke drifted lazily through the air, caught in the sunbeams shining through the dirty windows, while everyone from the lowest stagehand to Ringmaster Shrine himself stared in complete silence at the sight of Willie with a baby. Even the infant quieted for a few brief seconds before starting up again, and the sound had the same affect on everyone else as it had on Willie himself. People broke free of their daze, and some began moving towards him while others fired off questions.

"You have that stashed in your trunk, Willie?"

"What's a babe doing here?"

"How'd a kid get here?"

"What are we supposed to do with it?"

"Quiet!"

The car fell silent a second time as Ringmaster Shrine's voice rang out. The crowd around Willie parted to let him through.

Joseph Shrine towered over Willie as he came to stand in front of him, and his dark eyes stared down at the squalling infant.

"Where did you find him?"

"He was in my wagon, sir, on my bunk."

The ringmaster frowned but said nothing for a moment. "Well, he was obviously left there for a reason. It seems we might have a new member of our family."

"What about his parents?" asked Amos, who was a clown alongside Willie. "Shouldn't we try to find them?"

Mr. Shrine sighed. "If his parents had wanted him, they wouldn't have left him in Willie's wagon, now would they? It's safe to assume that he's been abandoned, so we'll care for him the best we can until we can arrange something better. Now, we have things to do. Willie, stay in here with him. Ann -" One of the acrobats stepped up. " - take Mary and go get some milk from the goats. It would seem that your idea of having a petting zoo with us is about to pay for itself. Cyrus, you, Howard, and Lou go scrounge for anything that might be useful."

"Like what, sir?" Cyrus, Ann's husband, asked.

"The babe will need blankets, clothing, diapers, toys, and a place to sleep. Grab anything that could work and bring it all back here. We'll go through it all then. It'll have to do until our next stop." Mr. Shrine turned around to face the rest of the car. "As for everyone else, keep quiet and don't harass Willie." He smiled. "Wait until we've got the mite bedded down elsewhere first."

There was a collective chuckle, and those who had been given tasks to do wandered out to go do them, while Willie settled down in the nearest chair. The infant calmed and gazed up at him with one eye, while the other continued to look off to the side.

"What are we going to name 'im?" Chauncy, one of the elephant trainers, called out as Mr. Shrine went to leave the car.

Mr. Shrine paused at the door, turned, and looked down at the baby with a thoughtful expression.

"Let's name him after Willie!" someone called out, and a ripple of laughter moved through the car, followed by a second when Willie groaned at the suggestion. The corner of Mr. Shrine's mouth twitched, and Willie felt his heart sink.

"No, I don't think we want to saddle him with that." Willie could hear the humor in Mr. Shrine's voice and see it dancing in his eyes. "How about.. Robert?"

A low murmur rose from the others in the room, followed by a general chorus of agreement.

"Then it's settled." Mr. Shrine nodded. "The little one's name shall be Robert..." He smiled in a way that promised Willie that he wasn't going to like what was coming next. "William Gray_._"

There was a pause, and then the others roared with laughter while Willie groaned again.

Mr. Shrine put his hand on the door handle. "Don't be so down about it, Willie. You found him, so you get a namesake. Be honored." He smiled, and then he opened the door and stepped out.

**OOOOOO**

A few hours later found little Bobby Gray sleeping peacefully in a wicker basket next to Willie's bunk in the clowns' sleeper car. The little mite had eagerly slurped down the goat's milk that Ann and Mary and retrieved for him, and then he had yawned, closed his eyes, and fallen asleep in Willie's arms. The troupe had then quietly discussed whether to keep him or not.

It was Chauncy that pointed out that with his wandering eye and enlarged head, something was clearly wrong with him, and it was likely why he'd been abandoned. Leaving him at an orphanage or church would likely result in a miserable existence. Within the circus, he might be able to find his place. Decision made, an unused basket was hastily turned into a bed, and Willie had taken the little one off for a nap.

Night had fallen as the train raced westward, and the countryside flew by the window as Willie readied himself for bed. He didn't know the first thing about raising a kid, didn't know if he was even cut out for the job. Hell, he was probably too old. He put the oil lamp that hung from the ceiling out, climbed into his bunk, and laid down on his right side, so he could see Bobby.

"Well, I guess I'll find out." he said as he closed his eyes and allowed the motion of the train to send him off to sleep.


	2. Day One

**A/N: For some reason, spellcheck would not work for this chapter. It works for everything else, but not this. I tried copy/pasting into a new file, but it wouldn't work there either. Huh. So do please forgive any typos that I missed.  
**

**OOOOOO**

_**Day One  
**__**April 1, 1906**_

"Ten minutes to Derry!"

"Ten minutes to Derry!"

The call sounded through the clowns' car, startling 26 year old Bob Gray out of his doze. He sat up, rubbed his eyes, and passed it down.

"Ten minutes to Derry!" He stood up and stretched as much as his height would allow as Amos, in the next cabin down, passed it along further down the train.

Bob sat back down on his bunk and took a quick glance around, running through a mental checklist. Everything was packed and ready to go. He would move the trunks down to his wagon here in a bit, just as soon as... Ah, there she was.

The sound of running footsteps came down the corridor, and a few seconds later, six year old Wilhelmina Gray came through the door into the cabin. Her handmade white dress and white hair bow had barely stilled when she began firing off questions.

"Papa, did you hear? We're almost to Derry. Will I be able to see my friends from last year? Can I perform in the voltige act this year? Do you think Mr. Shrine will let me?"

Bob stood still without answering for a moment as the onslaught of questions filtered through his mind. "I heard." he said at last. "We need to move the trunks to the wagon now."

She frowned at him but nodded obediently. "Yes, Papa."

It didn't take them long at all the carry the two traveling trunks: his and hers, down to the car where Bob's wagon was stored. It was similar to the one in which his mother (Or his father; he had no way of knowing one way or another) had abandoned him in years before. He was grateful that the interior of the car was dark; it prevented him from seeing that Willie's wagon was no longer Willie's.

He tried not to think of Willie if he could. The old clown had been dead for three years, dying of a heart attack in his sleep, and his wagon had been repurposed by the clown hired to replace him, but Bob still felt the ache of losing the closest thing to a father that he'd ever had off and on. The others told him that it would fade with time, but he wasn't sure if he believed them anymore.

The two trunks were placed just inside the wagon door, to the side so they wouldn't be tripped over later, and Bob released Wilhemina to go play with the other children while he returned to their cabin to await their arrival in Derry. There would be hours of work ahead of him once there, so he would relax while he could. He sank down into the only chair and stretched his longs legs out in front of him.

Derry, Maine.

He blew out a breath and reached out to pick up his banjo, only to remember that it was packed away in his trunk, along with his concertina. He idly nibbled at a fingernail as the train clattered along the tracks. It was always the same. As the train closed in on Derry's train station, a creeping unease came over him, like what he felt when he was having a bad dream. When he was little, the approach to Derry had made him bawl, and the troupe's attempts to quiet him had never worked. Willie had resorted to simply holding him on his lap as the train rolled in.

Bob shivered as Derry came into sight outside the window, and his stomach churned. He couldn't explain why he felt this way. He just didn't have the needed words. Some attributed it to his birth and abandonment – perhaps some lingering fear from being left alone in a strange place all those years ago. Outwardly, Bob pretended to agree. Inwardly, he knew better. There was something _wrong_ with Derry. Something was -

"Bob?"

Bob jumped and whipped his head up to look at the door. Lou was standing there.

"Derry jitters?" the trapeze artist asked, and Bob nodded.

He turned to look at the window at the town as it grew larger and closer, and his heart jumped in his chest as he folded his arms over it. "I don't like it. I wish we could skip it."

"You know we can't, Bob."

Bob curled up in the chair, pulling his knees up to his chest as he glared out the window at the approaching town. His lower lip dropped down, and he huffed in frustration.

"Bob," Lou chided him."Stop sulking; we got too much work to do."

Bob huffed again, but after a few seconds he nodded, pushed the feeling of wrongness away, and stood up. He followed Lou of the compartment without another word.

**OOOOOO**

The circus' arrival in any town or city was always a chaotic scene. Today was no different. Bob had no time to worry about his unease as he assisted in the unloading of the various wagons and the horses that pulled them. Off and on he caught glimpses of Wilhelmina assisting with the unloading of the Appaloosa horses that the voltige team used in their act. Once everything was offloaded, horses had to be harnessed and hitched to wagons, wagons had to be lined up, and then everyone got into costume for their parade down Derry's main drag to the fair grounds on the other side of the Penobscot River.

Wilhelmina got herself dressed behind a makeshift curtain in one corner of her father's wagon, while Bob applied his clown makeup at the table and mirror built into the small living area for that very purpose. She came out a few minutes later and waited patiently for Bob to to apply the finishing touches to his makeup: two red lines that ran down across his eyes, over his cheeks, and down to the corners of his mouth. Once that was done, he was able to braid his little girl's hair for her, something that had gotten him a few snickers from the other members of the troupe, and tie it off with a lace trimmed ivory ribbon that matched her dress. He then helped her pin on her wide brimmed hat with its ribbon that matched the one in her hair. It was the only article of clothing that she owned that was store bought; Bob had bought it in Chicago for her a few months before for 30 cents.

"Go wait outside." he told her. "Don't get dirty."

"Yes, Papa."

She skipped out and pulled the door shut behind her, which allowed Bob to get into costume. He'd designed it himself over the years during long train rides and in breaks from work as a teenager, and it had been assembled over the course of several months as he struggled with saving up the money, followed by several weeks of painstaking sewing lessons from Mary. The design had gotten him a few laughs from the others, but once it was finished and he was wearing it, no one denied that it somehow worked.

Of course that's when he had remembered that he was still growing. He'd panicked some over it, until Willie had pointed out that there was nothing to do abut save up more money and adjust the sizing later. He'd dutifully followed that advice, but Wilhelmina's unexpected arrival into his life less than a year later had put an end to those plans.

He'd had no idea before then how expensive babies could be.

Or how loud.

Bob pushed away the memory of cowering in a corner, hands over his ears, as his baby girl had wailed endlessly on his bunk, and focused on brushing out his hair.

It had never grown to completely cover his head. Ann had brushed it for him when he was a boy, in such a way that it looked like he had a full head of hair. She had also been the one to point out that his hair had worked perfectly for a clown and had helped come up for a way for it to be worn along with his costume.

He didn't bother styling it for now. It was just for the parade, and once that was over, everyone would get out of costume and focus on raising the tent and setting up. He brushed it the way that Ann had shown him, and Pennywise the Dancing Clown looked back at him from the mirror.

**OOOOOO**

Several minutes later found him at the reins of his wagon as the circus parade made its way down the street. Beside him, Wilhelmina flung handfuls of candy to eager children as the crowds cheered and waved. If she snuck a piece for herself every now and then, Bob ignored it. He just might have snuck a few pieces for himself before the parade had started.

The two pairs of gray Boulonnais horses that pulled the wagon ignored the crowd as the parade reached Up Mile Hill, and Bob smiled and waved at the people they passed. Confettie rained down, fired by a canon at the front of the parade, and Bob felt the first flutterings of excitement. He hated Derry, but he loved being part of the circus, loved dancing during his shows, and most of all, he loved the smiles and joy of the children. As the parade climbed the hill, he could hear them cheering and calling to him.

"Pennywise is back!"

"Mr. Penny is here!"

"Dance, Mr. Pennywise!"

A smiled stretched across his painted face at their voices, and he heard squeals and laughter as the smile caused his large front teeth to be visble.

Wilhelmina paused in her candy throwing, and she looked in the direction of the laughter.

Bob reached out and snagged another piece of candy from her bag. "Don't stop." he told her.

She frowned, looked up at him, looked back at the crowd, and Bob wondered for a moment why she wasn't smiling anymore. She then went back to throwing candy as the parade neared the top of the hill.

They crested the hill, and the horses whinied and folded their ears back. Around them the crowd continued to wave and cheer, and Bob sat up in the seat as the hair on the back of his arms and neck stood up. A chill raced down his back, and his stomach began to churn. He swallowed and looked around, but all he saw was smiles and happy faces, and -

What was that?

There was something on the sidewalk, on the left side of the street. There was ring of empty space around it in the otherwise packed crowd, and Bob felt as though someone had a hold of his head and wouldn't let him move it. There was a vague sense of a human shape: two legs, two arms, and a head, and Bob reached up to rub at his left eye as the figure seemed to blur. The sounds of the crowd faded away, and the strange figure seemed to move closer as two glowing points of bright orange light appeared.

_who are you?_

The world narrowed around him, until all he could see were those two glowing points of light. His stomach twisted itself into a knot, and he felt the urge to curl up and hide his face.

"Papa!"

Bob felt himself rock backward as Wilhelmina shouted in his ear, and the world suddenly seemed to snap back into place. The noise of the crowd rushed back to him, and it seemed explosively loud compared to earlier. He dropped the reins and covered his ears as they rang.

"Papa!" He saw Wilhelmina's small, gloved hand reach out and grab the reins before they could fall, and he turned his head at where he had seen those lights.

But there was nothing. Nothing but an empty place on the sidewalk that filled with people as he watched it.

He stared until Wilhelmina slapped the reins against his hands to get him to take them back, and his heart jumped as he spun back to face the road ahead and took the reins.

"Papa, what's wrong?"

Bob only shook his head slightly, unable to form the words needed to answer his daughter's question.

**OOOOOO**

The crowds thinned out as the parade neared the river, and they left the last reveler behind as they crossed the bridge to the fairgrounds. The parade split up into multiple directions as different wagons went to different places.

Bob parked his wagon in its usual spot; next to the main thoroughfare that would eventually lead to the main entrance of the big top, several feet away from the large, grated drain that prevented the field from flooding during wet weather.. He and Wilhelmina climbed down from the seat, unhitched the horses, and walked them over to where the stable tent was already in the process of being erected. A stablehand took charge of the horses and led them away.

Bob began the walk back to his wagon to get out of costume, but he was stopped by Mr. Shrine before he could take more than a few steps in that direction.

"Get your hair done up, get your balloons, and head back into town to drum up some excitement for tomorrow's show. Frank will join you later."

Bob nodded. "Yes, sir."

Mr. Shrine walked away, and Bob knelt down to talk to Wilhelmina. "Go find something to do. I'm sure the voltige team could use your help. Be back at the wagon by nightfall, you hear?"

She gave him a bright smile. "Yes, Papa." He smiled at her and watched her skip off towards where the voltige team was setting up their sleeping quarters.

**OOOOOO**

A half hour later found Bob on a street corner in downtown Derry, next a sign that displayed the date and times of their shows, and surrounded by excited children, all eager to get one of his red balloons, especially one of the ones that he had hidden pennies inside of.

A tiny girl with black hair in tight ringlets squealed in delight when he reached behind her ear and produced a penny that he'd "found" there, and she squealed a second time when he dropped the shiny coin into her open hand. She clasped her hand over the penny, turned, and ran home, while an older boy that he assumed was her brother chased after her, yelling at her about not having gotten his balloon yet.

"Can I have a balloon, Mr. Pennywise?" a small boy asked him with a wide, dimpled smile.

Bob giggled in Pennywise's voice, a much higher pitched, somewhat squeaky, version of his normal way of speaking. "I don't know. Can you?"

The other children laughed, and Pennywise giggled again as he handed a balloon off to the child, who immediately produced a pin to pop it with. "Ah, ah, ah! I wouldn't do that if I were you! What if there's no penny in it?" There _was_, but the boy didn't know that. "Then you'd have no balloon _and_ no penny! And wouldn't that be tragic?" Pennywise adopted an exaggerated, wide eyed look of horror and pretended to swoon, which sent the children into fits of giggles themselves.

A girl reached over and tugged at one of his lace trimmed cuffs at the end of his right sleeve. "What's that sticking out of your sleeve, Mr. Penny?"

Pennywise looked down at the small bit of bright red fabric that was just barely poking out off his sleeve. "Hmmm," He adopted a thoughtful expression. "I don't know." He gave the children a wide smile. "Let's find out!"

Keeping his balloons tightly held in his right hand, he reached over with his left, grabbed the cloth, and pulled. It came streaming out of his sleeve, and a piece of hard candy popped out. "Oh, where did that come from?"

The child nearest to him snatched the candy up as the other children giggled. Pennywise gave the cloth another tug, and the red piece ended with a knot that was tied to a green strip. Just behind the knot, was a bright red crayon, which was snatched up by a small hand before it could touch the ground. "I didn't put that there!" Pennywise exclaimed in a squeaky voice as he pulled on the cloth again. A tiny tin horse tumbled out and was quickly gathered up as the watching children shrieked with laughter. Another tug produced a tiny wooden soldier, which was followed by a tiny gun. ("I've never that before in my life!") The cloth changed from green to blue as another piece of candy came tumbling out.

None of the children came forward to collect it. Instead they stared at something behind him with their eyes widening. Some even took steps back. Pennywise started to turn his head to the left, to see what the children were staring at

Something hit him hard from behind. The children scattered as he stumbled forward.

"Get out of the way, pumpkin head!" came a sneering voice from behind him, and the hard blow was repeated. His balloons were snatched out of his hand as he fell foward, and he felt a kick to his backside. There was a flare of pain, and a burning in his face as he hit the rough surface of the sidewalk. His teeth then clacked hard against the ground, which made his mouth ring with pain as he yelped in pained shock. The rest of him sprawled out across the sidewalk, and the world seemed to go silent for a second as he laid there, trying to grasp what had just happened.

He faintly heard the sound of footsteps running away. "Freak!" shouted the same voice that had yelled earlier, and he felt his chest ache when he recognized the sound of a child's voice.

Bob placed his hands down and raised his head. Blood from a scrape on his forehead ran down into his left eye, blurring and distorting his vision. His right eye only saw fuzzy images of the building to his right. He wiped at his left eye with the cloth that was still sticking out of his sleeve, which allowed him to see people walking up and down both sides of the street, riding horses and carriages up the road, going in and out of buildings, just minding their own business.

Why wasn't anyone coming to help?

He felt his arms shaking as he pushed himself up, and then got to his feet. His legs shook as well, and he had to wipe at his eye again to clear away more blood. He caught the briefest glimpse of his balloons, and the pennies that they contained, disappearing into a building down at the base of Up Mile Hill.

"Bob!" There was a shout behind him, followed by running footsteps. "Bob, shit, are you all right?"

Bob didn't answer, and he felt a hand come down on his shoulder as Frank Cleary, in his guise of Snickers the clown, came around to stand in front of him. "I saw that little bastard push you. Are you okay?"

Bob didn't answer. He was shaking all over now, and blood from his forehead was dripping down to soak into the ruffles of his collar. He was vaguely aware of Frank gathering up the discarded ribbon that he'd pulled from his sleeve, along with the few trinkets that had fallen out.

"C'mon," the older clown said in a soothing tone, "let's get you back to the fairgrounds. I'm sure Doc Hart will want to see to that scrape you got there." Bob felt Frank's arm loop around his back, felt it gently turn him around, and Frank began to lead him back to the fairgrounds.

**OOOOOO**

Bob sat down on his bunk in his wagon when Frank told him to, and he immediately drew his knees up to his chest and wrapped his arms around them.

"Stay there." Frank said as he headed for the door. "I'll go fetch Doc Hart for you."

"I lost the balloons, Frank." Bob said in a small voice. "Do you think Mr. Shrine will be angry?"

He heard Frank sigh. "You didn't lose them, Bob. That damned brat stole them from you, and I'll make sure to tell him that when I see him next. Besides, the man's had a soft spot for you ever since Willie carried you into the dining car. Even if you had lost the balloons, there's no way in hell that he'd be angry. Now, sit tight. Doc will be here in a minute."

Bob put his head down on his knees, pillowed by his ruffles, and nodded.

**OOOOOO**

The doc came through the wagon door only a few minutes later. Bob stayed in his huddled position as the elderly man picked gravel and dirt out of the scrape and cleaned it out with some kind of foul smelling solution that stung the scrape as well as Bob's eyes.

"Frank said that someone pushed you down." he asked in that reedy voice of his, and Bob nodded.

"They took my balloons." he said quietly.

"I heard."

Bob tightened his arms around his legs. "I hate Derry."

"I know." Doc began to pack his things away. "You've never been attacked like this before though, have you?"

"Not here. I thought everyone liked me here."

"Well, what did I tell you years ago, when you were eight, after that group of boys beat you bloody?"

Bob felt his chest ache again. "Some people would always hate me because I'm different." He saw the blurred shape of the old man's wrinkled hand come down to rest on his right shoulder.

"I want you to stay in here and rest for a little while." the old man said after a pause. "I'll tell Joe what happened in town."

"He won't be mad at me, will he?"

"He won't, so don't worry about that. Now, you'd best get that costume off and relax. I mean it, I don't want to see you out there working before noon. You thumped your head pretty good, so if you start to develop a headache or dizziness, come find me immediately. Do you understand me?"

Bob nodded as Doc showed himself out, and once he was gone and the door was closed behind him, Bob uncurled himself and stood up. He opened the window above his bunk to let the light and fresh air in, and then he undid the ties that held his ruffled collar on and let it drop to the floor. It took him only a few minutes to get out of his costume and back into his normal clothes. Once the costume was hung up, he flopped down on his bunk to relax like he'd been told.

**OOOOOO**

Hours later found him climbing the steps up to the wagon door with legs that felt almost too heavy to lift. Despite years of doing it, it still surprised him how much work getting a circus set up was. It had taken all day with everyone helping, but everything was ready to go for their first shows the following day.

Wilhelmina was already inside, getting ready for bed, when Bob came through the door to the living area, and she started prattling on as he moved to the wash basin stand in the corner to clean up. He listened with one ear as he washed his face and hands. He heard something about the drain by the wagon and a voice, but it all slipped by him too quickly for him to think about it.

"I didn't see you in the mess tent." he told her, cutting off her chatter. "Did you eat supper?"

"Yes, Papa. I ate earlier." She paused.

"Good. Get to bed. We have more work to do tomorrow."

"Yes, Papa."

Bob dropped the towel on the table as Wilhelmina stood up and came over to him. Her arms came around his middle and squeezed, and he felt his chest ache again, but it was a different ache than what he'd felt earlier. He returned her hug and smiled down at her as she titled her head back to look up at him.

"I love you, Papa."

He raised one hand and ran it over her dark hair, hair that she shared with her mother. "I love you too, Wills."

She giggled, released the hug, and skipped off to her bunk. She climbed in, drew her privacy curtain and settled down for the night.

Bob put out the lamp, shucks his boots, closed the shutters over the windows, and got into his own bed. Worn out by the long day, he fell asleep quickly.


	3. Day Two

_**Day Two  
****April 2, 1906**_

The air was heavy and damp. There was the sound of dripping water somewhere distant, and the stench of raw sewage clogged his nose. His first reaction was to back away from the source of the smell, but there was no back where he was. He boggled at that realization for several seconds – how could such a thing be true? But it was, and it was something that he knew with more certainty than he'd ever felt before. There was no back, no front, no left, and no right.

There also wasn't any light, and he wondered for the briefest moment if he'd been struck blind somehow.

_what are you?_

The words came from all around, and he heard them twice: once echoing inside his head, followed a split second later his ears.

_why can you see me?_

Two bright orange points of flame appeared, but they weren't flames at all. They were eyes, and Bob's head ached at the mere sight of them.

_come closer. _

There was the feeling of being pushed, no, not pushed. _Fired _across the void around him, like the human cannonball act that had been added to the show the previous year. He was moving, moving at an incredible speed, towards...

Towards what?

He was definitely going forward now, but forward from where? There was the sensation of passing things at great speed, but there was no sound of moving air, no wind roaring in his ears. There was finally light, the light of stars, and he realized that he was flying towards them. He stared at them as they flew by, unable to comprehend the implications of what he was seeing. Other objects flew by: large spiraling discs of light, dark voids that had bands of light twisted around them, and small round objects that he had the strangest feeling were planets of some kind.

But there was something else. He had the feeling of something ahead of him, something of immense size and power. He just barely see it on the edge of his vision, coming closer. He shook his head (and was strangely surprised that he had a head to shake for some reason) and blinked his eyes when he saw that it was a turtle.

_he cannot help you._

It was the largest thing he had ever seen, he was unable to truly grasp the size of it as he approached it. The shell was brightly patterned with blues, greens, and a myriad other colors scattered across it. Stars winked and sparkled across it, and more spirals of bright light were visible in its flippers. Those flippers, along with the turtle's head, were pulled back into the shell; it was asleep.

Bob was skidding by the turtle's front, and the shell seemed to stretch out forever ahead of him. It reminded him of being on a narrow mountain path, with a sheer cliff to one side.

He was flying past its back half now, and he saw more bright spirals of light in its claws just before he was beyond them. Then he was leaving the sleeping turtle behind him and flying onward. There was something else up there -

(_The end of everything_)

\- something that made his heart hammer, that made him wish he could shut his eyes and curl up in a dark corner of his wagon and never come out. Something that he did not want to come any closer to.

It appeared in front of him, just barely visible as a gray shape that seemed to change and flow before settling into the bars of a cage, like the one they kept the tigers in, as he moved closer to it. The bars gleamed with a hellish orange light

(_Deadlights_)

that shone out between them.

_that's close enough for now._

Bob stopped. No slow down, no easing off. He just stopped, and though he could only get the barest glimpses of the light beyond the bars, he had a certainty that it could see him just fine. There was an angry buzzing, like a thousands bees were inside his head, and the memories of his life began to appear in his mind's eye, like the illustrated song that he'd seen in a nickelodeon a few years before. He saw memories of performing his dancing act, of handing out penny balloons to eager children, listening to Wilhelmina reading out loud, spending time with the other members of the troupe, a nun placing a dark haired, blue eyed infant in his arms, spending the night with a young lady who insisted he stay in character as Pennywise the entire time, making his Pennywise costume, struggling with learning to read and write, being held in Willie's arms after a group of children attacked him for being a freak and a moron, and eating dinner in the mess tent with Willie and the other clowns after a long day. There was one last memory, of being in suffocating darkness while something soft came up to cradle him, crying while the warm arms that held him pulled away and left him.

_you are grown, yet you are a child. _

There was a pause, and Bob clapped his hands over his ears as laughter rang all around him, echoing inside his head. There was a hard push, and he found himself flying back the way he had come, away from the bars and the light, back past the turtle, past all the stars and spirals, back to the void in which he had started, back to -

**OOOOOO**

Bob's eyes flew open, and he sucked in a great lungful of air. He felt cold sweat trickling down his face and soaking into his hair and the collar of his shirt. He sat up in the darkened interior of his wagon, grasping the sweat damp sheet beneath him to anchor himself to the waking world. He rubbed at his face as his chest heaved, and he felt the tremor that shook his entire body.

"Papa?"

Bob yelped and threw himself against the wall that his bunk was built into. Only then did he register the identity of the voice.

"Wilhelmina?" He reached out in the dark with one shaking hand and lightly brushed his fingers across her face. Her own hand then grasped onto his. He closed his eyes and squeezed her hand as he slumped back against the wall. He was awake. He was in his bunk in his wagon. It had just been a dream.

He sucked in another breath, and then he burst into tears.

**OOOOOO**

Bob watched as Wilhelmina was reluctantly herded out of the wagon by Mary and Ann, leaving him with Joseph Shrine and Doc Hart.

Doc gently tilted his head back and pulled the wadded cloth away from his nose. "It looks like the bleeding has finally stopped there."

Mr. Shrine looked down at him as Doc stepped away to get a clean cloth from the wash basin. "What happened, Bob? Wilhelmina was hysterical, and she roused nearly everyone."

Bob let his chin sink to his chest as heat flooded his cheeks. "I..." _I saw outside of Earth. I saw a giant turtle. I heard a terrible voice. _The words were right there, but he held them back. It he spoke them, he would be thought lying or crazy.

Mr. Shrine wouldn't _believe_ him.

"I just had a bad dream." he finally said just above a whisper. He kept his head down; he knew with a certainty that if he were to look up. Mr. Shrine and Doc would see the lie painted on his face.

"It must have been one very serious dream," Doc said as he stepped up with a damp cloth and began to wipe at the dried blood on Bob's head, face, and neck, "if it was vivid enough to make you bleed from your nose and ears."

Bob said nothing.

"Is he fit to perform later?" Mr. Shrine asked.

"I cannot say right now." Doc replied as he continued to wash the blood off of Bob's face. "If the bleeding does not restart, and as long as he doesn't suffer any dizziness, lightheadedness, or blackouts, I'll release him in time for the first show."

Doc stepped back. "I know this sounds familiar, but stay in here and take it easy, Bob. No strenuous activity. If you start to feel unwell, send someone to come and find me. You may, of course, join everyone for meals in the mess tent, but other than that, I want you in here relaxing. Behave, and you'll dance for everyone like always. Disobey me, and I'll keep you in here all day. Am I understood?"

Bob felt the man's stern gaze on him, and he hastily nodded. Doc made good on his threats, and despite everything, he wanted to do his show. He loved being Pennywise, and the thought of missing out on it made his stomach twist and curl.

Doc stepped out, but Mr. Shrine remained, standing in front of where Bob sat on his bunk.

"Is there anything else you want to tell me, Robert?" the Ringmaster said quietly, and Bob drew his legs up and wrapped his arms around them. "I've known you since you were a babe, and I know what that posture means, so tell me the truth."

"I hate it here."

"I know." Mr. Shrine sighed, a heavy sound that made Bob look up at him. "You've always hated this town."

"There's something here." Bob put his head back down on his knees, swallowed a lump that had suddenly appeared in his throat, and continued. "It's evil. If we stay here, I'm afraid that.. that something awful will happen."

"You know that we can't leave, and you know why. We can't afford to lose another week after that last town canceled on us. It's already thrown our schedule and finances off enough as it is."

"It's not safe for -" _\- me._ "- us here."

"We have to stay and see the week through, but I promise as soon as the last show is done, we'll pack up and get out as soon as we can."

Bob looked at Mr. Shrine again. "You mean it?"

The ringmaster graced him with a small smile. "I do." He gently placed his hand down on the top of Bob's head, an affectionate gesture that Willie had also done on a regular basis. "Now you make sure you do as Doc told you. We can't have the circus without Pennywise, after all."

Bob managed a small smile as Mr. Shrine walked out of the wagon, and once he was gone, Bob uncurled himself and stood up. He wanted to make sure his costume was ready to go, just in case.

**OOOOOO**

"Are you all right, Bob?" one of the elephant handlers asked, and Bob nearly groaned as he made the walk across the field to the mess tent. How many times did this make? Did everyone know about his nightmare and the bleeding it had caused?

How many people had Wilhelmina told?

Bob felt a surge of irritation towards his daughter, but he pushed it down. He had bled quite a lot, so much that he'd thrown away the pillow that he'd been using. There was simply no way to get it clean again.

The sound of her father crying out in his sleep -

_You were crying, Papa. You sounded so scared._

\- and the sight of all the blood had sent her into hysterics. Her reaction - fleeing the wagon and rousing everyone she could – could be expected. She was only six after all.

"Hey Bob, you feelin' okay?"

That didn't make the constant questions any less annoying though.

"Are you sure that you should be up and moving around?"

"Maybe you should go back to bed."

"Doing all right there, Bob?"

Maybe he should make a sign. _I'm fine, thanks for asking. _His handwriting was absolute chicken scratch, but it would get the message across at least.

Maybe.

"Weren't you told to take it easy today, Bob?"

He grumbled as he pushed the flap aside and stepped into the large tent that served as the dining hall, whereupon he spotted Wilhelmina seated with the voltige team. She looked up, spotted him walking in, and jumped to her feet to run over to him. Her arms wound around his waist and squeezed.

"Are you okay now, Papa?" she asked as her blue eyes gazed up at him.

He felt another wave of irritation. "I'm fine." he said, a little sharper than intended, followed by the wash of guilt when her face fell. He laid a hand on her head. "Sorry, Wills. I'm just tired of being asked that. Now let's go eat."

She gave him a tentative smile. "Okay."

She let her arms drop, slipped her hand into his, and led him over to a table.

**OOOOOO**

"Ladies and gentlemen! Boys and girls! Step right up! You'll laugh, you'll cry, you'll cheer, you'll die! Introducing Pennywise, the Daaaaancing Clown!"

Applause came from outside the wagon, and a second later, the large side door dropped down, which allowed Pennywise to see the crowd that had gathered to watch. Behind the wagon, Wilhelmina laid on the keys of the small calliope that was shared by all the individual acts (She had gotten very good at it, he realized.) and he began to dance. Following a beat that only he could hear, he ignored the watching crowd as he leapt, spun, and bounced across the floor of the wagon. He was faintly aware of the sound of coins landing on the wooden floor around him as the watching crowd threw pennies at him in appreciation. Some of it would go to Mr. Shrine, some would be given to Wilhelmina, Bob would keep some of it for himself, and the rest would be set aside for his penny balloons.

The music increased in tempo, and Pennywise did the same. The bells on his costume jingled as he moved, and he was faintly aware of the children in the watching crowd calling his name as he lost himself in the music. More coins rained down around him, and then, by some sense that he couldn't explain, he and Wilhelmina stopped. The music stopped, and he froze in mid step, his arms held above his head, his right foot out in front of his left. The crowd erupted into applause, and a few seconds later, Mr. Shrine's voice rang out over the grounds, announcing the opening of the main show.

Pennywise bowed as people began to filter away down the path to the big top, and once everyone had left, he stepped to the side and pulled on the chain that raised the side door. He closed it, latched it, and he began to gather up the money on the floor. Wilhelmina joined him, and they gathered up all the coins and secured them in a lock box in the wagon's living area. They would count and divide it up later.

"Good playing on the calliope, Wills." Bob told her as they waited for the line for the big top to disperse. Once it was gone, they would meet up with the others waiting to do their shows. Pennywise was part of the clowns' main act, and Wilhelmina would help wherever she was needed.

She grinned happily. "Thank you, Papa."

They relaxed for a moment as they waited for the murmuring of voices outside to die down, and Bob wondered if there was the possibility of her joining him in his act later, as more than the player behind the music. He smiled at the thought of two dancing clowns, playing off of each other, but no, he reminded himself. Her dream was to join the voltige team in the ring. She'd already trained with them quite a bit, and there was talk about officially adding her to the act when she was a little older.

She came and sat down next to him, and his bells jingled as he draped one arm around her shoulders and kissed her on the top of her head. She giggled and curled into his side.

"Papa?"

"Hmm?"

"Do you..." She paused, and Bob heard her lick her lips. "Do you think that, when I go out into the ring for the first time, that maybe my mom will be watching?"

"I don't know." he answered. "I haven't seen her since... since the day we made you."

That had been his first time doing anything like that, and it had been nice enough, he supposed. She had been very interested in Pennywise, but not in Bob Gray, which he had thought odd, but he had stayed and done as she asked. She had promptly kicked him out of her bed and her house once they had finished, leaving him to return to his wagon all alone in the middle of the night.

Wilhelmina made a small sound and nestled closer to him, and Bob noted that things outside had gone quiet. He gave Wilhelmina a one armed squeeze and stood up. "C'mon. We have to get going."

She sighed but stood up and followed him out of the wagon.

**OOOOOO**

The crowd roared with laughter as Pennywise stomped his feet and pretended to pull his hair out of his head. Around him the other clowns ran around in a circle, each "riding" a random piece of furniture or household item. Snickers whooped as he skipped by, riding a broom like a horse, for for said "horse" to stuck bucking wildly before throwing him to the side. The crowd laughed again, and Pennywise covered his face with his hands as their "rodeo" went completely off the rails.

Pennywise spread his hands and looked up at the ceiling of the tent in a "Why me?" gesture, and he lowered his hand to "glare" at the other clowns when something else caught his attention.

The stands were packed with people of all ages, applauding and cheering at the act, which made the sole person that wasn't stand out all the more. The figure was standing in the exact center of the stands along one side of the tent, with a ring of empty space surrounding him. (Her? It?) The person was pale, and dark haired, but he could pick out no details of the face or the clothing. The figure just stood there, staring, until a shout from one of the other clowns pulled his attention back to the act he was supposed to be performing.

When he glanced back up at the stands a second later, the figure was gone.

**OOOOOO**

The rest of the circus went on like it always did. Bob helped out behind the scenes where he was needed, though he spared a moment to watch the voltige act with Wilhelmina. Finally, the last act finished, the crowd dispersed, and the performers were able to begin the process of cleaning up and resetting for the next day. Once that was done, everyone drifted over to the mess tent for a late meal before heading off to find beds. Wilhelmina had pleaded for permission to spend the night with a friend, and after listening to her all the way through supper, Bob had agreed, simply so he could enjoy his meal in peace. So he would have the wagon to himself for the night.

Bob rubbed sand from his eyes as he climbed the steps to his wagon. His body ached, and he kept picturing his bed in his mind as he reached for the door. As he turned the knob and pulled, the hair on the back of his neck stood up. The door swung open, and Bob found himself frozen in place.

The interior of the wagon was dark, and the door to the living area, which he had closed earlier, was standing open. On the other side of that shadowed opening, was a shape, an even darker shadow that could just barely be seen.

Bob blinked and rubbed at his eyes, but the image did not vanish. He went to take a step back, but his feet refused to move. The shadow remained where it was, and then the lights appeared.

Two bright points of orange light burst into existence, yet no light shone on the area around them. Bob tried to shut his eyes, but his eyelids obeyed no better than his feet had just a moment before.

_want to play? _

"Nnnnn..." Bob felt as though something had wound itself tightly around his entire body and was squeezing him. He couldn't seem to catch any breath, and his heart trembled and spasmed in his chest. His head swam as laughter rang out in his ears, and the shadow vanished with a loud snapping sound. Bob stumbled forward and threw his hands out just in time to stop his face from slamming into the stage floor.

He raised his head, heart hammering, breath wheezing in and out of his lungs, and looked.

Nothing.

He scrambled up into a sitting position, and then he scuttled back across the floor to wall opposite the living area and pressed himself into a corner. There he stayed, until the first streaks of dawn lit the sky.


	4. Day Three

**A/N: **So I just made an adjustment to the fic's timeline, drawing it more in line with the book and giving IT a few more days to.. well, you'll see. The story itself has not changed any.

**OOOOOO**

_**Day Three  
**__**April 3, 1906**_

Bob dragged himself to his feet as daylight crept into the wagon through the open door. His body ached in protest over sitting in the same position all night, and he felt the urge to reach above his head, to stretch to his full height.

He repressed it; it would mean taking his eyes off of the doorway opposite of him. There was nothing there – nothing had appeared after that thing had vanished – but he still wasn't looking away. He edged over to the door, slipped out, and went down the steps backwards. Once his boots hit the grass, he spun around, and ran right into Frank.

A strangled scream escaped from his mouth as he stumbled backwards. He tripped over the wagon steps and fell down to land on them as Frank stared at him in confusion.

"You okay, Bob?"

Bob stared at him with wide eyes, heart hammering, for several seconds. Then he managed to nod.

"You sure?"

Bob pulled himself to his feet – his legs were still shaking. He nodded again. "I'm fine."

"If you're sure..." Frank gave him an appraising look, "Shrine wants everyone in the mess tent for a meeting."

Mess tent. Meeting. Right, he could do that. He walked up to Frank as the other clown began to walk towards the mess tent. "What's it about?"

"Dunno. The local police came by last night and talked to him. That's all I know. Maybe some kid smashed a window and they're blaming us. It wouldn't be the first time..."

Frank's voice droned on as they walked across the field, and Bob found his attention pulled back in the direction of his wagon. He paused in his steps and looked over his shoulder as Frank carried on towards the tent.

His wagon door was closed, and laughter drifted up from the nearby drain.

Bob felt cold all over, and he turned away from the drain and ran to catch up with Frank.

"There's something killing children in Derry." Joseph Shrine minced no words, and a gasp ran through the tent as everyone stared at him. The ringmaster grimaced. "Why they didn't tell us this when we arrived... I couldn't guess. What's more, apparently these murders have been going on for two years, and no one has any idea of who or what is responsible. The local police are looking into it, but they haven't gotten anywhere." Here he lowered his head and mumbled something that sounded to Bob like ".. not really trying..." before he looked back up at the troupe and their families.

Bob felt Wilhelmina inch closer to him, and he squeezed her shoulder.

"From here on out, until we leave this damned town behind us," Mr. Shrine continued, "no children are to go off alone." He looked through the crowd, his eyes finding each child in the troupe, including Wilhelmina. "You hear me? You are to stay within sight of adults at all times. We've never lost a child in this circus, and we will not be starting now. Once the week is up, we will all get on our train and leave here. ALL of us."

"Two years?" Mary stood up. "They said these murders have been going on for two years? Why in God's name did they not tell us this the last two times we were here!"

Mr. Shrine shook his head, and Bob felt cold again. How many times during their last two visits to Derry had Wilhelmina been off doing her own thing? How many times had he not known exactly where she was?

A murmur of agreement swept through the crowd, and Mr. Shrine held his hands up for silence.

"I'm beginning to believe that Bob has the right idea about Derry." he said. "But after the cancellations we've already had, we cannot afford to leave early. We need the money the shows here are bringing in, and we all know it. If we don't run successfully here, we'll be sending the children to bed hungry, while not having the coal to get the train down the track to the next stop. None of us want that, so we have to stay the entire week if we can.

"I promise you though, the instant our last show ends, we will start the breakdown. No waiting until the following morning. As soon as the big top is cleared of patrons, we'll start taking it all down. I want us out of here as soon as humanly possible."

He looked over the crowd and nodded once. "Remember, no children off by themselves, and make sure that an adult knows where you are at all times. Now, let's have breakfast and get started for the day. We have a lot to do."

**OOOOOO**

Pennywise rubbed the sand out of his eyes as he gathered up the coins collected during his dance. He carried the money to the lock box and yawned as he put it away. He cast a longing glance at his bed, but no, there were still hours to go in the day. Two shows, one in the late morning, one in the early evening, clean up, and then he could sleep.

He felt Wilhelmina's hand slip into his as they made their way to the big top. She had been quiet all day and had refused to leave his side for an instant. She joined him and the other clowns in their small dressing room off the main tent and parked herself in a chair close to him as he touched up his makeup and discussed the upcoming act.

"You alright, Wills?" Toby, who was in the process of putting on the face paint that would turn him into the clown known as Dazzle, asked. Wilhelmina didn't answer, and Toby turned to Pennywise. "She okay?"

Pennywise shrugged and turned to beckon his daughter to him, and she climbed up onto his lap and laid her head on his ruffles. "Wills?"

"Clowns up in five!" came the call from one of the stagehands, and the rest of the clowns began to head out.

"What's wrong, Wills?" Pennywise asked as he wrapped his daughter in his arms.

"Why can't we leave, Papa?" she asked in a small voice that made his chest ache.

He gently ran his gloved fingers through her hair. "You know why. We need the money."

"I don't care about the money!" she wailed as she hid her face in his collar. "I want to leave! I hate this place!"

"Wills..."

"You hate it here too, so let's just go! Let's leave while we can!"

"Wills," He wound his arms around her again and squeezed, "We can't leave. You know that."

"I know why you hate it here now." She closed her eyes and hid her face in his ruffles. "I don't want to stay here anymore!"

"Wills, what -"

"Pennywise!" came a shout from outside the tent flap, "We're on in two minutes!"

Pennywise set his daughter down on her feet, so he could stand up. She grabbed onto his hand and held onto it tight as they stepped into the big top.

"Do you have to go out there, Papa?"

"You know I do. I'm the white clown." He gave her a small smile. "I have the keep the rest of them on task, you know."

She didn't return the smile, and she silently slipped her hand out of his and slinked over to join the members of the trapeze act that were beckoning to her.

Pennywise watched her walk away with them. She did not turn back to look at him, and something within him hurt at the realization.

"Thirty seconds, Pennywise!" came the call, and he forced himself to look away from Wilhelmina and pull his attention to the show he was about to do.

**OOOOOO**

Pennywise waved his hands in frustration as his "cast" completely ignored his direction. The crowd rolled with laughter as the clowns' attempt at a stage play went no better than their rodeo the previous day. Lines were misspoken, positions were completely wrong, and props kept doing things they shouldn't. The orchestra provided music and sound effects as Pennywise tried to get the "show" back on track.

He clutched at his head and stomped at his feet, before he raised his head to send a pleading look at the audience. Could they help him get the wayward actors back on task? He opened his mouth to speak to the crowd, but the words died in his throat before he could voice them.

A shadow flitted in and out of the crowd, moving in a blur that his one good eye struggled to track. It darted between the rows and up and down the stairs, and wherever it stilled, people seemed to lean away from it, while nearby children started to cry. Parents looked around for what was upsetting their children, with some looking directly at the shadowy figure. Pennywise waited for them to shout, to scream in horror, but that didn't happen. Instead, they only turned away and told their children to hush.

A hard jab in his side made Pennywise start and yelp in surprise, and he turned away from the crowd to see Snickers looking at him expectantly. Oh, yeah, the act he was supposed to be part of. He turned back to the other clowns -

\- and froze as his next line vanished from his memory. He scrambled to recall it – he'd done this act countless times before – but it was just gone.

"Bob?" Dazzle hissed. "What's wrong?"

Pennywise felt his stomach twist – what was he supposed to do next? How did the act go? What was his next line? Laughter, sounding like no laughter that had ever come from a human voice, sounded close by. He whipped his head to his left, and it was _there_. The shadow was standing there, less than ten feet away.

"Pennywise! What are you doing?"

The shadow did not move, and those two burning points of orange light appeared again. Pennywise felt the world lurch to the side under his feet.

"Bob!"

"Pennywise!"

"Bob! Snap out of it!"

"Bob, what is wrong!"

Pennywise felt himself drawn towards those lights, and the sounds of the circus around him faded away.

_why do they come to you?_ The whisper slithered across his mind, and his stomach clenched as sweat erupted across his face and head. Images flashed through his mind, of himself putting his makeup on, getting into costume, standing surrounded by children, their laughter and smiles, and the feel of his own joy and delight at entertaining them.

That laughter sounded in his head again, and the shadow vanished, with a _pop!_ that seemed to echo inside his mind.

"Bob! C'mon, talk to me!" came Snickers' voice in his ear, along with the booing of the crowd. Pennywise swayed as the tent tilted in one direction and then the other, and he absently reached up to touch his face went he felt something trickling down it. His fingers touched just below his ear, and the tips of his white gloves came away bloody.

"Bob!"

Pennywise didn't answer. The lights and sounds were pulling away from him again as the tent rocked to the side, and everything went away.

**OOOOOO**

_The sound of dripping water. The smell of sewage. The sense of something large and dangerous hovering over him._

wake up!

**OOOOOO**

Bob gasped as his eyes flew open. The ceiling of his wagon materialized in front of him just as he felt the mattress of his bunk below him. Orange light shone on the ceiling through the window, and his heart stuttered as he thought that it was the same light he had seen from that shadow, that he had seen in his nightmares. The sounds of a show in progress filtered in through the open window, just as the door clicked open and Mr. Shrine stepped into the small space.

Bob pulled himself upright as his boss came to stand in front of him. Neither said anything. The inside of the wagon seemed to be tilting and spinning just as the inside of the big top had earlier, and Bob had a horrible feeling that if he opened his mouth, then he would be sick.

The silence spiraled out between then, and then came a _crack!_ that echoed through the small space, as Joseph Shrine's right hand connected with Bob's left cheek in a slap that rocked him to the side.

"All you had to do," the ringrmaster said in a low, furious tone, "was lead the clowns' act. That is all. Yet you somehow managed to fuck that up!" Mr. Shrine's voice began to rise, and Bob flinched back away from it. "You forgot your lines, you stared at the audience, and then you had the audacity to take a DAMNED NAP!" The last two words were shouted, and Bob scuttled back across his bunk and huddled in the corner. "I wonder why I even bother to keep you around, when you can't do the simplest tasks without wrecking everything! You ruined the show! I hope you are happy with yourself!"

Each word rained down on Bob like a physical blow, and he drew himself into the tightest ball possible as a frightened whimper escaped him. He couldn't recall Mr. Shrine ever yelling at him before.

"You stay in here, until I say you can come out." The man's voice was back to a angry hiss, and Bob felt tears trickle down his face. "I don't want to see your misshapen head out there until I personally come to get you. If I do, I will make the beating those boys gave you years ago look like a pillow fight in comparison. Am I understood?"

Bob nodded, eyes squeezed shut, face hidden in his arms. His scalp screeched fire as a hand seized his hair and pulled his head upright to meet Mr. Shrine's enraged visage.

"I said, am I understood!"

"Yes, sir!" Bob wailed as more tears ran out of his eyes.

Mr. Shrine shoved him away hard enough that his head thumped against the wall behind his bunk, and the ringmaster turned and strode out of the room. The slamming of the door rattled the walls, followed by the loud click of a lock. Bob stilled at the sound for a moment, and then curled up on his bunk again and started to cry.


	5. Day Four

_**Day Four  
**__**April 4, 1906**_

The light in the wagon faded as the sun began to set, and Bob did not move from his bunk. He stayed curled up, his back to the door, even as his tears dried on his cheeks and his sobbing tapered off into sniffling before quieting completely. Nature's call forced him to eventually get up and try the door, but it refused to budge, the handle not turning an inch, no matter how hard he twisted it. He used the chamber pot in the corner of the room before he returned to his bed.

Mr. Shrine had yelled at him, had _hit_ him. He couldn't recall the man ever acting in such a way before. Why? It was because he had wrecked the show, right? But he hadn't _meant _to do that! It was because of that... _whatever _that thing had been. He shivered at the memory of it, staring at him, and his head ached.

That was it, he somehow knew with a clarity that he couldn't explain. That thing, _It_, was what was wrong with Derry.

He should leave; they should all leave. Forget the circus and just leave.

Mr. Shrine (He shivered again at the memory of the slap.) would never agree to it though. He'd made it clear that they had to stay the week through.

Maybe, Bob thought, he could just go himself? Take Wilhelmina and just walk away?

But, where would they go? What would they do? The circus was the only life that either of them had ever known. And people like him weren't well liked by others. He squeezed his eyes shut as a lifetime of insults and abuse from strangers ran through his mind. Leaving the safety of the circus would be dangerous for him, and by extension, for Wilhelmina.

But if they couldn't leave, what were they to do?

He had no answers.

There was nothing to do, nothing to do but lie there and wait. He sighed as his cheek throbbed from the blow it had taken, and he scrubbed at his eyes as more tears threatened to fall. Stop that, he told himself. You're not a baby. You're a grown man, so you need to find a fix to this problem.

A laugh bubbled up out of him. Problem? He was being stalked by some creature that apparently only he could see, and Mr. Shrine had gotten angry enough at him to strike him, something that had never happened before. Problem did not come close to describing what was happening to him. The laugh ended on a sob, and he hid his face in his pillow and hugged it to him. His makeup smeared all over it, but he did not make any move to wash it off or get out of costume. As the orange light in the wagon faded to the darkness of the oncoming night, Bob was finally able to drop off into an uneasy sleep.

**OOOOOO**

A banging sound startled him awake, and he sat up so quickly that his head thumped hard against Wilhelmina's bunk above him. He rubbed his head as the banging came a second time. It was the door, he realized, someone was knocking hard at the door. He sat up and rubbed at his head just as it opened and Lou stepped in.

"Where the hell have you been, Bob?" he asked as he walked in. "Everyone's looking all over for you, and -" The man stopped as he seemed to finally see Bob sitting there on the bunk.

"You look like hell, Bob. What the hell happened to you?"

Bob just stared at him. Everyone had seen what had happened during the show, right? And then Mr. Shrine had.. had...

"Bob?"

"Mr. Shrine told me to stay here." Bob mumbled as he looked at the floor between his feet. "He said that I had to stay in here until he told me I could leave."

There was a few seconds' silence. "That... can't be right." Lou said, confusion in his voice. "Mr. Shrine checked on you after you were carried out of the ring, and he's been busy since then. He didn't even leave the big top until early this morning. He asked the doc about you, but he hasn't been anywhere near your wagon."

Bob looked up at Lou. "But he was here! I saw him! I talked to him! He.. he.. he _hit_ me, Lou!"

Lou stepped closer to him. "He hit you? Why would he do that? He's never once raised his hand to you before."

Bob let his gaze drop back down to the floor. "He slapped me, and then he yelled at me and told me not to leave here until he said I could. Then he locked me in here."

"Bob," He looked up at Lou again to see the trapeze artist shaking his head, "that door doesn't have a lock on it. It never has. None of the wagons have a lock on the inner door."

"But -"

"Come and look for yourself if you don't believe me. While you're doing that, perhaps I should go find the doc again. Something hasn't been right with you, so maybe you shouldn't do your act later."

Bob felt his head seize at that. "No, don't do that! I'm fine!" He stood up. "I'm okay, really!"

The look of disbelief on Lou's face was clear enough that Bob had no trouble reading it. The trapeze artist and the clown stared at each other for several seconds before Lou sighed and let his shoulders slump.

"Fine." he said. "I've got too much to do to go chasing after the doc. Just... keep an eye on yourself, yeah? You haven't been right since we came into this damned town, even worse than you normally are. Hating Derry has never made you pass out in the middle of a show before, you know. You scared the hell out of everyone, and I'm damned glad that Wills wasn't watching when you went down."

Bob felt cold; he hadn't even thought about his daughter. "Is she all right?"

Lou nodded. "She spent the night with Mary. We just told her that you were sick." He pulled out his pocket watch and looked at it. "Your show is due to start in less than an hour. You might want to get yourself sorted soon, before Wilhelmina gets over here."

Lou stepped out, and Bob found his eyes drawn to the door as it opened and closed.

There was a latch, but no lock. There never had been one.

His makeup was a mess, smeared across his face and missing in several areas. He washed it off and reapplied it. His costume was rumpled and wrinkled from being slept in, and all he could do was use his hands to smooth it down as best he could.

Small footsteps sounded on the wood behind him -

"Papa!"

\- and he felt Wilhelmina impact him from behind. Her arms wound around him and squeezed, and he closed his eyes and covered her hands with his own.

"Are you all right now, Papa?"

"I'm fine, Wills." Her arms dropped, and he turned around and knelt down in front of her. She leaned in, kissed the red tip of his nose, and then skipped out of the room to make sure the calliope was ready to go.

**OOOOOO**

Pennywise listened to the murmuring crowd as he waited for his show to start. The wall of the wagon was still up, and Wilhelmina was out back on the calliope. No one could see him yet, but still, his stomach churned, and he was sweating under his costume, despite the cool weather.

"Ladies and gentlemen! Boys and girls!" began his introduction. "Step right up! You'll laugh, you'll cry, you'll cheer, you'll diiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiie..."

The crowd's murmurings grew louder as the voice became distorted, and Pennywise shivered as it morphed into something that sounded as thought it came from the devil's mouth. It then went silent, and for a moment all that he could hear were the voices of the people outside. Then the wall dropped down, and he jumped at the sound of it banging to the ground. A few people in the crowd shrieked and jumped back, there was a few seconds' silence, and then Wilhelmina started to play.

Bob shook his head and started to dance as always, but the crowd did not react. There was no cheers, applause, or laughter. He did not hear the sound of coins raining down around him. The people in front of him were just silent.

A red object whipped by him, and he heard a splat as it hit the backdrop of the stage. Someone in the crowd laughed, and a second later, another object whizzed by. This one hit the backdrop with a solid thunk, and Bob stopped in mid-step and turned to look just as the rock rolled to a stop by his feet. He turned to face the crowd and found his eyes drawn to the shadow that was flitting through the people.

"Freak!" a man shouted, and he hurled a small, white object at Pennywise. The clown was rocked back a step when it smacked solidly in the middle of his forehead and broke open. Egg yolk ran down his face as the crowd erupted in laughter.

The shadow paused, and Pennywise felt its gaze upon him. Laughter sounded in his mind as those lights appeared once more.

"Pumpkin head!" shouted a child, and Pennywise vaguely recognized the voice as belonging to the one who had stolen his penny balloons. A red, round, squishy object impacted his left shoulder and splattered across the top of his costume. The shadow darted away, laughing along with the jeering crowd.

"Monster!" Another egg sailed by, narrowly missing his head.

"You should have been drowned at birth!" A apple, half rotten, smacked into the center of his chest, which made him stumble backwards another step.

The shadow came to stand at the front of the crowd, and Pennywise felt his head swim as those orange lights stared at him. There was an angry buzzing, the creature laughed again, and rotten fruits and vegetables began to rain down upon the stage.

"Freak!"

"Why don't you just kill yourself!"

"No one likes you anyway!"

"You're scaring the children!"

"Moron!"

"Retard!"

"Get out of our town!"

Pennywise cowered and held his arms up in a feeble attempt to protect his face as he was hit and splattered by a shower of rotten food.

"Stop!" he wailed. "Why are you doing this!"

_I thought you liked me?_

"Hate you!"

A moldy tomato smacked into his left ear, and its cold, slimy innards smeared across his hair and head.

"No one wants you!"

The sound of his heart breaking was audible to him as a low rumbling, and the crowed roared with laughter as Pennywise burst into tears and fled the stage. He reached for the door to the living area, shoved it open, and dove in. A browned head of lettuce, a mold encrusted potato, and another apple rained through the doorway before he slammed the door closed. He heard the calliope stop through the open window.

From the other side came the sounds of more things smacking into the door as he sank down to the floor, curled up with his face hidden in his arms and cried.

"Aww, is the clown crying?" came a mocking voice from outside, followed by more laughter. "The poor baby!"

"Alright, that's enough!" came a commanding voice that made Pennywise curl up even further as his heart stuttered in his chest. "All of you clear out of here! The show's over!"

The mocking voices and laughter began to fade and move away, as two new sets of footsteps sounded on the wood floor of the stage.

"Bob?" Mr. Shrine called out as he knocked on the door. "Are you all right?" He knocked again. "Open the door, Bob."

Pennywise shook his head as a second voice joined the ringmaster's. "It's safe to open the door now." Amos said through the wood. "You can let us in."

"No!" Pennywise wailed. "You'll just hit me again!"

"_Hit_ you? I've never done that, and you know it. Now open the door."

"No, go away!"

"Bob, please -" Amos began.

"GO AWAY!"

The door rattled, but Pennywise only pressed himself back against it and wedged it shut. "I said go away!"

"C'mon, just open the door." Mr. Shrine said. "We just need to know if you're all right."

"I'm fine! Now go away! I don't want you here!"

"Bob -"

"LEAVE!"

Silence from the other side of the door, followed by a sigh.

"Let's go, Amos."

"Are you sure, Mr. Shrine? What if -?"

"We'll close up the wagon and check back on him later, once he's had a chance to calm down."

Silence, and then another sigh. "Alright," Amos conceded. There was a tap against the door. "We'll be back later, Bob, I promise."

Pennywise heard them walk away from the door, followed shortly thereafter by the sound of the side door pulled pulled up and latched closed. He then heard them walk out of the wagon, and closed the door.

Finally alone, Pennywise buried his face in his arms and cried.


	6. Day Five

**A/N: **So, apologies on the massive delay here, but I was finally able to replace my computer's dying PSU a few weeks ago. With a new PSU finally supplying enough power to the graphics card, I was able to use this computer for its intended purpose – gaming. I spent some quality time with some of my favorite PC games, and only then was I able to focus on writing again.

**HowlynMad: **On one hand, I am really enjoying writing with one of my favorite villains, even if it's not the POV character. On the other hand, I feel absolutely horrible about what I'm putting poor Bob Gray through. The knowledge that what It probably did in the backstory of the book and movies is likely much, much nastier, doesn't make me feel better. The fact that movie Pennywise, the version that I am using, is a total sadist, even more so than his book counterpart, just makes it worse.

**Day Five  
****April 5, 1906**

Bob kept himself wedged against the door until he heard the crowds leave, the cleanup finish, and everyone bed down for the night. The light faded as the sun vanished below the horizon, and only then did he drag himself across the floor to slump against the leg of his dressing table. He made no attempt to use the wash basin in the corner to clean off the remnant's of the crowd's anger, nor did he get out of costume. He knew, in the back of his mind, that the stains would set, forever ruining his hard work, if he didn't wash the costume, but doing so required more effort and energy than he was willing to muster.

Besides, he thought, the people had made their opinion clear. They no longer wanted to see Pennywise the Dancing Clown. They didn't like him anymore. They hated him.

_They don't love me. _

For the second time, he heard the rumbling in his ears as pain echoed across the left side of his chest, and he drew his knees up, wrapped his arms around them, and cried once more.

**OOOOOO**

His tears were tapering off when he heard the wagon's outer door open and shut, followed by footsteps across the stage. He curled up even tighter and held his breath as he watched the inner door. Who would come through it? Was it Mr. Shrine again, ready to yell and hit? Was it the thing that had been stalking him? Was it -?

"Papa?" came Wilhelmina's voice as the door slowly swung open, and he felt the tension leave his body in an instant as she stepped into the silvery bar of moonlight that shone in through the window. Her hair was a mess, her clothes were rumpled and wrinkled, and she looked as tired as he felt as she crossed the short distance between them and threw herself into his arms.

"Wills?" he asked as he realized that his daughter was crying. "What's wrong?"

"It won't leave me alone." she whimpered into his ruffles.

"What are you talking about?"

_oh you know, bob, don't you?_

"It talks to me through the drain. It's never the same voice twice. I hear it when I dream, and I keep seeing it watching me! It won't go away!"

Bob didn't ask her what she was talking about; he knew. He knew that more than he knew anything else. Whatever was tormenting him was also tormenting her.

And true to his usual form, he hadn't noticed.

_brilliant parenting, bobbo!_

Shut up, he mentally told the voice as he stood up, pulling Wilhelmina up with him. He gave her a gentle push towards her bunk. "Go, gather your things."

She didn't question him. She went straight over and began pulling her clothes out of the little cubby they were stored in. He pulled a satchel out of one of the trunks and tossed it at her. "Put them in there. Take only what you'll really need."

"What about you, Papa?"

"Don't worry about me right now."

He needed to get out of his (now ruined) costume, but he couldn't undress with her in the room. But he didn't want to send her out of the room either, since that would put her out of his sight. Maybe he could just have her climb up in her bunk and close her curtain while he changed.

_who said anything about a 23-skidoo? _

The inner door slammed shut.

Wilhelmina let out a small scream as she jumped and spun around to look at the door, while Bob just stared at it. His heart hammered up in his throat as he stepped up to it and reached out to the doorknob. It wouldn't turn. The door that had no lock was locked. Again.

He swallowed and backed away from it. He moved back to the bunks, and urged Wilhelmina up onto his. She pressed herself against the wall, still looking at the door with wide eyes.

"Papa...?" Her voice quavered as he sat down on the edge of the bunk, facing away from her. Her hand crept into his, and he gently squeezed it.

"It doesn't want us to leave." he said in a whisper that still seemed loud in the silent wagon.

_that's right, ya goop!_

Wilhelmina whimpered again. "What are we going to do, Papa?"

He only shook his head. He didn't know, but he didn't want to say that out loud. He felt her press herself against his back. "I'm scared, Papa."

Laughter drifted in from outside, and Bob felt his skin break out in goosebumps as sweat popped out on his forehead. He clutched Wilhelmina's hand in his and kept his good eye on the door.

**OOOOOO**

The night seemed to be the longest of Bob's life, and he was just beginning to worry that the creature had somehow stopped the sun from rising when the chirps of birds fell on his ears. He sighed and let his shoulders slump.

"Papa?" came Wilhelmina's sleepy voice from behind him, and he felt her sit up. He hadn't noticed that she'd fallen asleep. She wiggled out from behind him to sit on his left. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders without taking his gaze away from the door. She leaned into him.

"I'm hungry, Papa."

He didn't answer her. Faint sunlight began to shine into the wagon from the window behind them, and he stood up and moved to the door.

He paused in front of it, swallowed, and then reached out to the knob with a trembling hand. The metal was cold as he wrapped his fingers around it, and gave it a twist. It turned easily, followed by the click of the latch retracting. It then swung open with a small squeak of the hinges. On the other side was the stage, and it was completely swallowed by darkness and gloom. None of the slowly brightening light from the window reached beyond the door.

Bob swallowed again and stepped back. He gestured for Wilhelmina to come to him, and she gathered up her satchel of clothes and crossed the floor. Her hand slipped into his.

"What about your costume, Papa?"

Bob shook his head; he no longer cared about changing. He just wanted out of Derry. He squeezed Wilhelmina's hand, and then he stepped into the open doorway and onto the stage.

He felt as though someone had dumped a bucket of freezing water over his head. He shivered, feeling chilled down to his bones, and his heart began to hammer in his ears. He stopped so abruptly that Wilhelmina bumped into him, but she didn't say anything in response.

Bob squeezed his eyes shut and took a deep, shaking breath. For a moment, he heard the mocking of the crowd -

_Freak!_

_No one wants you!_

_Why don't you kill yourself!_

\- and he pressed his lips closed against the whimper that wanted to slip out. He felt Wills' free hand grab the back of his costume, while her other hand squeezed his hard enough to almost hurt.

"Bad dog," he heard her say in a voice that was barely a whisper. "Go away."

"Wills?"

"It sounds like there are dogs outside the wagon, Papa." she whimpered. "Big ones."

He didn't hear dogs.

_No one wants you around anyway!_

Buzzing filled his ears, and he squeezed Wilhelmina's hand in warning before he lurched forward and ran for the outside door. He vaguely heard Wilhelmina stumbling along before he hit the door and shoved it open. Weak sunlight spilled into the room, but the bone deep chill -

_Retard!_

_Get out of our town!_

\- and the voices remained until he stumbled down the steps to the grass.

Then they vanished completely.

Bob paused as Wilhelmina pressed herself against his side, but the voices stayed blissfully silent.

"Let's go, Wills."

Bob led her away from the wagon, towards the treeline at the edge of the clearing. The road was closer, but walking down it would increase the chances that someone would see them. He knew – he didn't know how he knew – but he knew that if someone else from the circus saw them, they would be prevented from leaving.

The frosted grass crunched under their shoes as they weaved between the wagons that housed sleeping circus members and their families. Behind then, near the big top, horses whinnied, and Bob wondered for a moment if it would be a good idea to go get one. Having a mount would certainly make it easier to get out of town, and they could sell it later, once they were far enough away to get some easy money.

He felt like slapping himself then; they'd forgotten the lock box with the money from his act in it. Well, too late to worry about it now. Going back to get it would certainly get them caught. Nothing to do but -

Papa...?" came a fearful whine from Wilhelmina, and Bob broke from his thoughts just in time to see a large, black shape emerge from the treeline. It moved towards them, moving impossibly fast, and it resolved into a dog.

But it was unlike any dog he had ever seen. It was easily the size of a pony, and its fur was so dark that it made it difficult to make out its exact shape. He heard its enormous paws flattening the grass as it streaked towards them, and Wilhelmina shrieked, wrenched her hand out of his, and started to run away, back towards the wagon.

She was scared of dogs, Bob vaguely remembered as he heard her footsteps retreating. The black, somewhat dog shaped thing streaked past him, and he noted the bright orange fire of its eyes. He turned to watch it and saw Wilhelmina fleeing back in the direction they had come. The dog had already caught up to her, and Bob stood and watched as it leapt at her.

She screamed as she vanished underneath it, and the sound seemed muffled, distant.

_It's just a dog. Nothing to worry about, right?_

He should really go after it, shouldn't he? His daughter was somewhere under it, screaming for him to save her.

_Nothing to worry about._

Surely someone else would deal with it.

Scraps of bloody cloth were flying up, torn from Wilhelmina's dress, and he could see her hands flailing at the thing, trying to land a hit on it. Those little hands were also bloody.

Bob's ears rang, so he just barely heard the anguished "Papa!" from his little girl. His heart jumped at the sound, but the ringing grew louder, drowning out all of the sound around him. He wasn't really there anymore. He was just watching it, like he was watching an animated song at a Nickelodeon, that was all. Nothing to do but watch.

He felt something warm trickling from his nose and dripping from his lip, but it wasn't any more important than the scene in front of him. Another scream pierced through the ringing, and he managed to lift one foot and take a half-step forward. That foot seemed to weight as much as an elephant, and it wasn't worth the effort to try and lift it again.

_nothing to worry about, right bobbo?_

Right, nothing to worry about.

The dog yanked its head back, chomping heavily on something, and there was a spray of blood that colored the grass red. It looked back at him then, orange eyes glowing, bloodied teeth bared in a grin that was too large for the canine face that it occupied.

And then it was gone.

There was the snap of inrushing air, and Bob felt the strange apathy lift from his head. His eyes immediately found sought out the bloody, mangled form lying several feet away. He ran forward, stumbled, fell to his knees, got to his feet, and finally made it the rest of the way to.. to...

… what was left of Wilhelmina. He didn't see anything that could tell him for certain that it was her lying there. That thing – _**IT**_ – had torn her to pieces.

Bob spun away as his stomach twisted and spasmed, and he dropped to the ground on his hands and knees and was sick on the grass.

And then he began to scream.

Around him, he faintly heard doors slamming open, voices yelling, footsteps running towards him. Arms came around him, more voices shrieked and yelled behind him, and a blanket was draped around his shoulders just before he was pulled to his feet. His screaming ran out of air, he took a breath, and started to wail as his heart shattered into pieces.

Over the shouts and yells, over his own sobbing, as he was led away from where his daughter's shredded remains lay, laughter, high pitched and gleeful, echoed through the chilly air.


End file.
